


tomorrow will be kinder

by preshire



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preshire/pseuds/preshire
Summary: lavellan defeats corypheus, at great cost





	tomorrow will be kinder

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how poppin' the dragon age fandom on ao3 is these days, but i found this in my google drive from early 2015, before any of the story DLC was released! thought it was sweet, okay? excuse the lack of capitalization, it was the Style back then

“can you walk, boss?” bull’s gentle voice in her ear, holding her tiny body close to his big one. she felt as if she could fit into the palm of his hand sometimes.

she nodded, and he carefully placed her back on the ground. they were just outside skyhold now, the breach in the sky vanquished and their nemesis destroyed. her and her party were quiet, an air of disbelief hanging over them all. they couldn’t be done, could they?

they made their way up the final few steps to skyhold on foot, all of them, sore and falling apart step-by-step. cassandra had come out to meet them, had charged out on the field despite the inquisitor requesting that she stay behind. the nevarran woman walked closely beside the inquisitor, letting them all know about the welcome that they’d be receiving once they got back to skyhold. that they were all waiting for them.

no one in the party felt much like celebrating. the breach was gone; they’d beaten it back but now all they wanted to do was lock themselves into a dark, quiet room and rest.

the inquisitor was worst off of them all. as they climbed the final few steps, cassandra and bull were supporting her weight almost entirely, though she insisted on entering on her own feet. the people needed to see her return to them powerful, lest they not believe that she really defeated the darkspawn magister.

a few quick breaths before the doors opened. sera, dorian, bull and cassandra all looked at each other, worried and doubtful. the inquisitor readied herself, and pushed cassandra’s and bull’s hands off of her waist. they entered, the victorious party.

and she did it, sure as she had sent corypheus into the fade a few hours prior. she walked through the courtyard, up the stairs, past all the people reverently sobbing their thanks. she’d never asked for their praise, and it still felt strange, but it did not even seem to register as she walked. she could feel cassandra at her heels, concern burning into the back of her skull, but she walked and she climbed and she made it up to where leliana and josie and cullen were waiting for her. the women curtsied a little as she approached, a show of respect though she knew that josie at least wanted to gather her up into a hug, yet was far too restrained.

cullen, however, did not have the same problem. he rushed forward, arms out, and though she had found herself in a bit of daze before, nothing felt more real than the feel of her lover enveloping her in his arms. she buried her face into the soft fur of his pauldron. her knees give out, and she could sense the surprise in his body language as he keeps her from falling to the ground in front of the whole inquisition. the herald lets out a quiet sob, feeling the weight of exhaustion on her closed eyes, and she feels leliana and josephine swoop in around her, shielding her from the adoring eyes of her followers.

//

she hadn’t broken anything.

her advisors had gingerly guided her to her quarters, sending for a healer to meet them there. they laid her in her bed, where she would stay for several days.

she hadn’t broken anything. well, anything important, anyways. her whole left side was bruised, wicked purple splotches that originated in her palm, where her mark lay dormant and travelled down her body. the bruises didn’t subside until halfway down her leg, particularly dark and angry looking where her hip bones protrude. she couldn’t remember how she had smashed her side so hard. bull had said something about her being tossed by the corrupted dragon, but she honestly had little recollection of facing the beast. she could remember pursuing corypheus, and she could remember when she stood over the blasted ground when he was sent into the fade. but besting the dragon was foreign to her. the healer told her that she might never remember. she was okay with it.

as well as half of her body being bruised, her ribs were crushed and her insides were bubbling angrily inside of her. her lungs were okay-- she could breathe and her heart still beat, but she found herself unable to consume solid food or else be faced with additional wracking pain in her gut. the healer-- an elf from her clan who had come from wycome when the inquisition soldiers had returned, had been able to make sure that everything inside of her kept working properly.

parts of the back of her skull, her shoulders, and her right foot had been charred by the dragon's bizarre flame, to the point where they thought she might lose the foot. a few toes, at least. the burn subsided in time, however, without losing foot nor digit. it just simply left for a searing wound with a dressing that had to be changed nearly hourly.  
she was in extreme pain for all of it, delirious with it and with the elfroot elixirs she had to frequently gulp down to counteract infection. josephine had located an orlesian anesthetic, one that ensured that the inquisitor would feel little pain, but would not be much company in terms of her ability to hold a conversation without babbling. cullen, though quite useless in terms of medical finesse, stayed by her side during the worst of it, delegating everything to either josephine, leliana, or one of his lieutenants.

he sat on her good side, holding onto her good hand. downstairs, the people celebrated, raising a glass up to the elf who lay half dead above them.

//

there is a party, because josephine insisted that the orlesians would grow suspicious if the inquisition was silent in the aftermath of corypheus’ death. they needed to invite people to them, to prove to all of thedas that the threat that they had faced was truly gone.

invitations go out three days after they return to skyhold. the celebration is to be in a fortnight.

//

they fit her for a wig; some remaining magic from the dragon had darkened her existing hair. the newly black hair in small patches on the side of her head burnt to the touch, her scalp was constantly red with irritation.

cullen helped her shear it all off. initially they were going to try and just shave off the poisonous spots, try and keep as much of her natural hair as possible.

lavellan takes one look in the mirror, more patches than light blonde hair, and shakes her head. she had not noticed it earlier, her mind faded from the anesthetic, but she hadn’t had any in a few hours and she can think clearly with the approaching night. they cut it all off, and it's an almost instantaneous relief. cullen kisses her scalp, where her angry red skin is fading quickly to a soft pink. his stubble is rough but his lips are careful, and that night cullen climbs into bed with her instead of keeping vigil on the couch to give her space.

he kisses down her body, and he's more gentle than she could have thought a human could be. her people had a distinctive grace about them, and it seemed as if her influence might finally be wearing off on him.

goosebumps erupt on charred and bruised skin as he moves lower. butterfly kisses to her inner thighs before he places his mouth onto her heat, ever conscious of her legs around him. lavellan cries out for him. it's the first time he's touched her like this since before the arbor wilds. there'd been no time.

she comes all at once, squeezing aching thighs around his head, his own hair feeling nice on tender skin. when she comes down, she wants to reciprocate, but he pushes her back onto her pillows when she makes to sit up.

they fall asleep together, inquisitor curled up next to him, his breath falling across her face and smelling like her.

//

she gets up and walking again as soon as the healer allows, never one for lazing around in bed all day. it hurts, but she goes on strolls of the gardens with varric, him telling her story after story. skyhold is a cold place, up in the frostback mountains, but she feels warm, the sun on her face and friends who feel like family at her side.

(the dragon flame that blazed her had scarred her more deeply than anyone would realize for awhile. her blood would never run cold again).

on crutches, she ventures further out onto the grounds as time passed, visiting her companions with varric's minimal assistance one by one. she chatted to each of them, scratching uncomfortably at where the short blonde wig that had been procured for her itched at the seams. dorian had insisted that the orlesians would never know it from her real head of hair, but the fact that he had immediately spotted it to be a wig was not promising.

she spent an afternoon with blackwall and bull once she finally made it all the way down to the stables. people greeted her everywhere, all glowing reviews of her heroism. some looked as if they were still waiting for the other shoe to drop, as what happened at haven would never completely leave their minds. but the more days that passed without any major catastrophe occurring, the more and more convinced they were that their herald had truly saved them.

their praise now feels safe, deserved. all the fuss over her being andraste's divinely chosen herald had to a degree always made her feel uncomfortable. she had been no one special before. but she had time and time again nearly killed herself trying to protect them all. her, and her party deserved a simple thanks.

when she voices this to blackwall and bull, blackwall chuckles, low and hearty. but none can disagree, and the inquisitor holds her head high when walking back to her quarters.

//

if she'd been worried about being thanked, she had had no need for it when the proper celebration comes around.

she stays away from the ostentatious throne at the head of the hall, sitting at one of the tables with cullen. scores of orlesian and fereldan leaders flock up to her, seeming to put aside their differences for the sake of their praise of the inquisition. there are those from the marches as well, nevarrans and some from starkhaven and kirkwall too. much to dorian’s delight, there's even a small group from tevinter, looking pious and offering apologies for the venatori. surface dwarves and those from orzarmmar bring gifts and treasures and the elves who do show up stand quietly on the sidelines, lest a noble mistake them for kitchen staff.

it's a nice night, plenty of food and drinks for everyone in attendance. dorian nearly gets into a fight with one of vivienne's loyal mages about tevinter, but bull stops it before they've even got the chance to begin.

cullen and the inquisitor sit together, talking to anyone who walks up, but otherwise not making much more of an effort. quietly, they let the evening pass around them. they're happier that way.

//

they're in bed. her bed, not his, abandoned and forgotten in wake of corypheus' demise, and it's accompanying lack of professionalism in regards to inquisition leadership deserving ceilings. cullen hasn't seen the inside of his office for weeks.

his warm body heats up the entire bed, her snuggling up under his arms, facing him and watching the shadows on his face dancing from the fire burning low across the room. he's smiling, tracing her face starting from the tips of her ears down.

"where did you get your scar?" he asks, and it's dark, but she can see the curiosity in his eyes.

she smiles, one of her own slender hands reaching up instinctively to feel at her marked flesh. it's deep, dark, taking up most of her jaw, with a second flick just knicking her bottom lip. she feels it, absently, the after effects of her orgasm making her lazy, taking her time with her words.

"it was stupid," she drawls. "happened just before the conclave. when i was travelling to attend, my group and i came across a bear who was none too happy to see us. we drove it off, but not before it nearly tore my jaw off."

she grimaced slightly, remembering. she was used to pain now; as herald and inquisitor she'd been beaten and broken more times than she could count. her slowly healing body was proof of that. but not back then, not when she was just an apprentice to her keeper, nearly two years prior. the bear had crashed through her barrier, which had been the only thing that protected her from not being killed on the spot. the blood had poured from her face, and she could remember the blind panic she had felt, holding hands up to her jaw, trying to keep more blood from escaping.

she and the small group she'd been travelling with patched her up the best they could. when they approached haven, her companions lingering on the outskirts of the village, just beyond the mountains, they hadn't wanted to leave her. haven, and humans, were completely foreign to her. she knew the common tongue, of course, but she was no trader. she'd never had many dealings with the humans. she'd approached the healer, a grumpy looking man who helped. as she was sitting in their human chantry, she could feel the eyes of people around her, staring accusingly at her, wondering what a wild looking knife-ear was doing in their small village.

adan had done his best, but it had taken two days to get to the village from when she'd been attacked. the skin had already begun to stitch itself back together. the scarring was set. she'd have it forever.

the scar, deep and ugly had weighed on her before. the humans starred, and whenever she got a glance of herself she hadn't been able to look at how ugly it was, red and inflamed and sitting prominently on her cheek. she was worried that she had failed her clan already; surely she could not slip unnoticed into the conclave when she had such a distinctive looking scar?

it didn't matter, in the end. the temple burned with her inside of it, yet she walked out. she'd survive, with nothing more than a glowing green hand.

"a bear," cullen mused, interrupting her train of thought. "i thought it would be something much more interesting than that. was the bear possessed, perhaps? was it summoned by the witch of the wilds?"

"ha ha." she rolled her eyes, and she pulls her hand from her face. no use in brooding on her scar. "are you poking fun at the asha'belannar? you know she steals children and eats the flesh of toads."

"they've not much flesh, toads." cullen turns his cheek, smug looking, as she pats him with a reprimanding palm of her hand. he closes his eyes, content with her hand on his face. she keeps it there.

the inquisitor watches him for a moment, lips curling up as she surveys the man before her, completely relaxed in her arms. he was always so tense, she remembers. wound up tight, weight of everything heavy on his shoulders. but on the brink of sleep, he looked relaxed. calm. he trusted her to be naked and alone with him, and trusted her to chase off the nightmares that would pursue him when he drifted off into dreams.

"and what's this from, then?" she asks, voice soft. she traces his own facial scar, the one cutting into his lip just faintly.

"oh this?" he answers, voice already a bit deeper from approaching sleep. "fought a dragon, singlehandedly. got off with nothing more than this scar. it was very impressive."

“hm,” she murmurs, feeling sleep tugging at her as well. she was still recovering, after all. her body had persevered, despite all that she had put it through, and it deserved it’s rest. the moon glows softly on the lovers, and all of the pain feels worth it. “i might have a story or two about dragons.”

“i’m sure. tell me in the morning. i love you.”

“and i, you.”

palm still open on cullen’s cheek, lavellan closes her eyes and misses the flickering of green from a mark just waking up.


End file.
